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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28375383">Shriveled Body, Beating Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullharvester/pseuds/Skullharvester'>Skullharvester</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>One-Shots (Baldur's Gate 3) [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Baldur's Gate, Dungeons &amp; Dragons - All Media Types, Forgotten Realms, baldur's gate 3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet, Comfort, Elf, Fluff, Growing Old Together, Half-Elf, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:08:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,383</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28375383</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullharvester/pseuds/Skullharvester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In another timeline, Astarion never became a vampire, but sometimes he wished that he did.  Growing old wasn't easy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>One-Shots (Baldur's Gate 3) [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120211</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Shriveled Body, Beating Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(In my recent delirium, I was about to pass out in bed until this idea came to my mind, so I got up to write it very quickly.  I don't know why I'm such a sap for scenarios/AUs like this, but I am.</p><p>It's just a short little one-shot idea with not much to it, but I needed to spoil myself with some cuteness.  My weird idea of cuteness, anyway.</p><p>As always, enjoy and have fun!)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>        Gazing at himself in the mirror, Astarion desperately wished he could be immortal.  He’d settle for being a vampire, despite its myriad setbacks, if only he could be young again.  Getting old was awful, especially as an elf.  For centuries, an elf would be as beautiful as a blossoming flower, until one day they’d wake up and suddenly realize that, in an instant, their fairness had wilted.  It was very sudden and very somber when that day came for Astarion.  He knew it would eventually, but he thought he had more time, honestly.</p><p>        The more his neck sagged and fattened, along with the rest of his body, the length of his frilled collar got taller to disguise the changes.  When wrinkles multiplied, he caked on more foundation to fill in the cracks, as if he were a stonemason laying brick.  Every so often, his tailor had to “let out” his fanciful clothing to accommodate his growing waistline, and seeing the tape measure display a higher number than before as he peered down at his gut made him utterly miserable and ashamed.</p><p>        Getting old was the worst thing that ever happened to him, and that was saying a lot, since his career as a magistrate was littered with constant scandals that made him the talk of the town, and not always in the way he desired.</p><p>        Sometimes, he blamed it on the “married life”.  Maybe if he’d never said “yes” to the proposal made by the quirky half-elven apothecary from the Lower City, he somehow would have ended up finding the philosopher’s stone or the fountain of youth—some method of thwarting the aging process.  Probably not, but Astarion hated facing bitter realities, such as the fact that this was all totally normal and that not much could be done about it.</p><p>        <em>Gods damn it</em>, he thought.  <em>My belt doesn’t fit anymore.</em></p><p>Astarion sucked in his stomach, pulling at the leather strap until he was able to fasten the buckle.  He wasn’t particularly comfortable when he stopped holding his breath, but at least it helped him look slimmer.  Maybe he should take up his tailor’s offer to fashion him a girdle, not that it would help much.</p><p>        Elganon was so lucky.  He was as dainty as ever, even if he was mostly skin and bones now.  In Astarion’s mind, it was preferable to looking like a bloated toad.  Neither were a great option for him, but if he could choose, he’d rather be rail thin.  Nice clothes fit better that way.</p><p>        Once he was done applying his makeup and putting on his powdered wig (that was another point of embarrassment: his hairline was thinning, too, and he swore to himself in his younger years that he’d <em>never</em> wear a wig), he went to Elganon’s bedside and shook his betrothed by the shoulder.</p><p>        “Wake up,” Astarion fussed, but his voice was hardly heard over Elganon’s snoring.</p><p>         If it weren't for how loudly Elganon snored, Astarion might have thought him to be dead.  Elganon didn't always snore.  He used to make cute, soft dovelike sounds while resting.  Now, he probably had sleep apnea.</p><p>        “I said, wake up, you old fool,” Astarion hissed again, shaking harder.</p><p>        Elganon rolled on his back, opening his mouth wider and snoring louder.</p><p>        “<em>Elganon</em>!”</p><p>        “Whaaat?” whined the old half-elf, covering his face with a pillow.  “Go <em>away</em>.  I’m trying to sleep.”</p><p>        “You’ve been asleep for twelve hours.  It’s time to wake up.”  Astarion tapped him on the elbow with the back of his hand, then tried tickling him to get him out of bed.  “Come on, get up.”</p><p>        Elganon squirmed and scooted towards the other side of the bed, taking his pillow (Astarion’s, really) with him.  “I don’t <em>want</em> to.  I can sleep as long as I like.  Leave me alone.”</p><p>        “It’s not good for your health, love.  Do as I say,” Astarion commanded, waddling around to the other side of the bed to corner and grab him.  One nice thing about the added weight gain was that Astarion was stronger now, for his age.  There was no way in Hells he could lift Elganon up anymore without throwing out his back, though.  “Up.”</p><p>        The half-elf made a series of pitiful noises when he was hoisted into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.  Clothes were tossed in his lap—all of which were slightly too baggy on his frame, though he preferred it that way since it was more comfortable.</p><p>        “I’m tired,” Elganon groaned, and Astarion kissed him on the cheek in an effort to cheer him up.  It worked, but only slightly.</p><p>        “I’ll have one of the servants make you some tea, darling.”  Astarion helped Elganon with getting dressed.  Putting on his pants was the hardest part, since it involved bending over more than either of them ought to.  “We’ll go sit in the garden, alright?  The sunlight should do you some good.”</p><p>        Elganon sighed.  “I don’t really care for the sun all too much, lovie.  You know I’m more of a moonlight person.”</p><p>        “And that’s exactly your problem,” Astarion countered, grabbing both of his hands and pulling him to his feet with some effort.  Elganon was thankfully so light that the wind could blow him over.  He might have to bring along a shawl, in case there was a breeze outside, come to think of it.</p><p>        Though Elganon’s hearing was starting to go, he had to plug his ears when Astarion began shouting for one of the servants to prepare tea in the garden, and to fetch a shawl and a warm blanket while they were at it.</p><p>        “You don’t have to be so demanding of the servants, lovie,” said Elganon meekly, clutching the arm that Astarion held out for him in a gentlemanly fashion before they made their way down the stairs—slowly, to avoid another tripping incident like the last time they were in too much of a hurry to get to a party they were late for.  Elganon was honestly getting tired of all the parties Astarion dragged him to, so it was nice that they could have a pleasant evening lounging around in the garden of their manor in the Upper City for a change.</p><p>        “I’m not being <em>demanding</em>,” Astarion replied defensively, holding onto the handrail of the stairs as they made their precarious descent.  “I just want them to hear me, that’s all.”</p><p>        “But you sound so <em>mean</em> when you bark like that,” Elganon confessed with a slight bit of humor to his cracking voice.</p><p>        “I’m not <em>barking</em>.”</p><p>        “You are, though.”</p><p>        Astarion grumbled, and his mood was further soured when a couple of servants spotted them coming down the stairs and scrambled to assist.  “Get your hands off me!  I’m not so decrepit that I can’t walk under my own power!” he snapped, brushing the well-meaning young men off.</p><p>        “<em>Astarion</em>,” Elganon said sternly with a frown.</p><p>        “If I want help, I’ll <em>ask</em> for it,” said the elderly noble, and the two servants gave him some space.</p><p>        “So-Sorry, sir,” said one of them, rubbing his hands together fearfully.</p><p>        “We just didn’t want you to have another accident, is all,” said the other, equally eager to avoid eye-contact with their master.</p><p>        Astarion was so red in the face that he had to change the subject, lest his blood pressure get the better of him.  The medicine that Elganon made to treat his ailment could only do so much.  “Is the tea being prepared, or isn’t it?”</p><p>        “Of course, sir.  Mimsy has it covered.  She’s getting it all set up right away.”</p><p>        “Good.”  Astarion dismissed them with a gesture.  “Now leave us.”</p><p>        The men scampered off together like mice, which brought some concern to Elganon’s withered face—one that was once beautiful and still retained some elegance to its somber features.  “I hate that you make them so nervous.  Can’t you be a little kinder?  It’s all rather unnecessary.”</p><p>        Astarion’s mood improved somewhat when they reached the bottom of the foyer without issue.  “I don’t <em>mean</em> to be such a taskmaster, dearest, it’s just that it’s hard not to be cranky all the time when I always feel so sore and disheveled.  You know what it’s like when people overwhelm you when all you want is some peace and quiet.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>        Astarion turned out to be right, after all.  The moment they arrived in the spacious garden out back and the sunlight hit their skin, Elganon was feeling much better and more alert.  They met with Mimsy there, the head of the rest of the servants in their household, and they sat down at the table while she stood and poured them tea.  She was about the same age as Elganon, but she was still doing quite well at managing the other servants without slowing down much over the years.</p><p>        “How’s your day, Mimsy?” Elganon asked, smiling sweetly as he pulled the blanket that she provided him into his lap and wrapped the shawl around his shoulders.  He was no longer shivering in the cool air.</p><p>        “I can’t complain,” she answered.</p><p>        “But I’m sure you will,” Astarion finished for her.</p><p>        Suddenly, her hands “slipped”, and she poured a splash of hot water into the nobleman’s lap rather than his teacup.</p><p>        “Fuck!” he blurted out, pressing a cloth napkin to his thigh to sop up the water.  “You did that on purpose!”</p><p>        Mimsy smiled wickedly.  “I’d <em>never</em>, good sir.”</p><p>        “Liar!”</p><p>        “Astarion, please, calm down.  It was an accident,” Elganon insisted, handing him another napkin. </p><p>        Astarion sulked, but he snatched the offering and went back to drying himself off.</p><p>        Mimsy picked up the cup of tea she poured for herself and sat next to the men, stirring her drink while blowing on the surface of it.  “You know, when I imagined that I’d meet a handsome noble who'd put me in a house full of riches, this isn't exactly what I pictured, but it's good enough for me, I suppose.”  She grinned again at Astarion.  “Not that you’re all that handsome anymore, sadly.”  She shifted her attention to Elganon.  “You’re still alright, comparatively speaking.”</p><p>        Elganon chuckled a little, adding sugar to his own tea.</p><p>        Astarion glared at his servant.  “I don’t believe I gave you permission to sit with us.”</p><p>        “Oh, come off it, Astarion.  I sit where I like.”  She took an experimental sip of her tea, but decided it wasn’t done steeping yet by a longshot.  “But I do have to get going soon.  Now that you've both rolled your arses out of bed, I can finally finish cleaning.  Took you long enough.”</p><p>        “I do like my sleep,” Elganon admitted, subtly taking off his shoes to rub Astarion’s calves with his bare feet underneath the table.  Astarion reciprocated, after struggling to kick off his own boots.</p><p>        Mimsy nodded.  “Aye.  Too much so.  It gets in the way of our work sometimes.”  She stood up and peered between the married couple.  “Well, if there’s nothing else you two need…”</p><p>        “I believe we’re all set,” Astarion said.  “Oh, and be sure to polish my shoes in the wardrobe, will you?”</p><p>        The woman appeared offended by the command.  “That’s not my job.  One of the boys does that.”</p><p>        “I don’t care who does it, so long as it gets done.  I've got a very important court case tomorrow, and I want to look my best,” Astarion explained, adjusting his collar pompously.</p><p>        Mimsy put one hand on her hip, drinking deeply from her teacup.  “You'll be sitting behind a damned desk, Astarion.  No one's going to see your feet at all.”</p><p>        “So?”</p><p>        She sighed.  “And here I figured you'd get <em>less</em> fussy with age.  Why can't you be like the rest of us old sods and give up the ghost on your vanity?”</p><p>        To this, Elganon took offense.  “Hey, I still wear eyeliner and all that.  I haven’t totally given up.”</p><p>        Now Astarion had to make trouble with him as well.  “But you still dress like a pauper, even when I give you such nice clothing.” </p><p>        Elganon huffed and drank his beverage while he pouted at the rude remark.</p><p>        Mimsy shook her head disappointedly.  “Anyway, enjoy your tea, lads.  But next time, don't shout if you need anything.  Ring a bell, or something.  I've even left one on the table.”  She pointed at the bell to make sure that Astarion knew it was there, then headed back inside the manor, taking her cup along with her.</p><p>        With the two of them alone, Elganon and Astarion leaned back in their chairs and basked in the sunlight and scenery that the garden provided.  Without there being anyone else around, it didn’t matter how tragic their old bones looked laying about so lazily with no concern for their poor posture.  Elganon never cared much about that, but Astarion would insist that he ought to whenever they were in public, for the sake of maintaining their dignity, since people liked to gossip.</p><p>        “You know, the new garden reminds me so much of Murmyr's realm.  We used to love drinking tea together in his garden.  It looked almost exactly like this,” Elganon mused with an air of contentment. </p><p>        He didn’t flinch at all when a bee buzzed around his head briefly; he was glad to have it there.  The various scents of all the flowers surrounding them smelled so nice and made him think of different times.  Not better times, only times when things were different.  He was happy with the way that things were now, too.  Astarion envied how much easier it was for Elganon to take the passing of time with so much more grace and stride than he ever could.</p><p>        “Please, darling, don't bring up your old imaginary friend to me.  I'm only glad that you've…sent it away,” said Astarion, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.  “I don't want you discussing it because I fear that you'll start entertaining that silly nonsense again.  It's not good for your mind, you know.  You're far too old for that sort of thing, and it scares me when you treat it as if it were real.”</p><p>        He never knew that this Murmyr creature was a demon from the Abyss—an actual living entity that whispered to Elganon, only that his lover used to talk to a voice inside of his head.  That Elganon had a penchant for speaking to himself was a fact that Astarion, unfortunately, didn’t find out until much later in their relationship.  Those were trying times for him because he didn’t know what to do.  There was one point where he very nearly sent Elganon to an asylum out of fear that his constant and worrying daydreaming was getting way too out of hand.  He was at his wit’s end, and it came as a massive relief when one day, mysteriously, Elganon had said that his “friend” had vanished.  Good riddance, Astarion thought.</p><p>        “But he <em>was</em> real, Astarion.  He—"</p><p>        “<em>Stop it</em>.”</p><p>        Elganon lowered his head, frowning as he went back to nursing on his tea.</p><p>        Astarion hated to see him look so pitiful, especially if it was his doing.  “Don't be so upset with me, sweetheart.  I love you, and that's why I worry so about your mental health.  As a physician, you should know the dangers of humoring imaginary things to such a degree.  Please understand where I'm coming from with this.”</p><p>        “I know,” Elganon mumbled, leaving his cup on the table, and smoothing the tablecloth with his hands.</p><p>        Astarion cupped one of Elganon’s hands with his own, smiling reassuringly at his husband.  Elganon gave a small smile back.</p><p>        “So, how has work been lately?” Elganon asked, upturning his hand so that he could entangle their fingers together lovingly.</p><p>        “Awful,” Astarion said honestly.  “I may retire soon.  I believe it’s about time.  What do you think, love?”</p><p>        Elganon seemed genuinely apprehensive.  “Are you sure that’ll be good for <em>your</em> mind?”</p><p>        Astarion squeezed his partner’s hand tighter, giving himself the necessary courage to keep speaking earnestly on the topic.  Not because he didn’t feel comfortable with being open to his spouse, but because he’d been rather stubborn about the idea of leaving his post up until now.  “Staying would be worse.  The new laws make my job even harder than it used to be, and all the red tape is growing tiresome.  I'd rather be done with it all.”</p><p>        Elganon stroked Astarion’s hand with his boney thumb.  “But what will you do in your spare time?”</p><p>        A devious smirk spread across the magistrate’s lips.  “The same thing we always used to do in our spare time, perhaps,” he purred.</p><p>        The half-elf wasn’t too keen on that answer.  “Astarion, you know I don’t care much for sex anymore.”</p><p>        That broke Astarion’s heart a little.  Or maybe the scone he started nibbling on was giving him heartburn already.  That could be it, too.  “But <em>darling</em>…  It's been so long since we've really been intimate together.”</p><p>        “That’s not true,” Elganon retorted.  “Just the other night—”</p><p>        “That was heavy petting at best.”</p><p>        “We were at it for <em>hours</em>.”</p><p>        That time, Astarion knew for sure that it was his pride that was hurt.  “I can't help that it's not easy for me to maintain an arousal anymore…”</p><p>        Elganon scooted his chair closer to Astarion’s to give him a comforting hug and a pat on the back.  “I didn’t mean it like that, love…”</p><p>        It was surreal that in the past few decades, Astarion got weepy more often than Elganon did.  His eyes were watering now, in fact.  “I miss when we used to make wild and passionate love back in our younger days.  Those were fun times.”</p><p>        Elganon held him tighter, hearing the choked sobs that his husband was trying to suppress.  “It's not the end of the world.  Why does it bother you so much that things have changed?  It's natural for people's wants and needs to evolve as they get older.”</p><p>        Astarion dried his face on Elganon’s shoulder, but the tears kept coming.  “Because…because I don't <em>want</em> to be older.  I want to be <em>younger</em>.  And being young means having lots and lots of sex.”</p><p>        “Not for everyone,” Elganon disputed.</p><p>        “Well, for <em>us</em> it did.”</p><p>        “So, I don’t satisfy you anymore?”  Elganon did his best to hide how upset the implication made him, but it showed a little in his mildly irritable tone.</p><p>        “It's not that.  It's the opposite.  I'm frustrated that I don't satisfy <em>you</em> anymore…”  Astarion lifted his head to look his lover in the eyes.</p><p>        Elganon brushed away the tears that were washing off his husband’s makeup.  “Astarion…  That's not true at all.  You make me <em>very</em> happy.  It's nothing that you've done or haven't done that's changed how I feel about sex; it's that my libido isn't what it used to be in general anymore.  I wish I <em>did</em> want to have more sex.”</p><p>        Astarion sniffled and confessed, “I wish I did, too…”</p><p>        Neither were sure how they ended up sprawled out in the grass, fumbling out of their clothes awkwardly, with Astarion crawling clumsily on top of Elganon's fragile frame.  The servants might have been able to see them through one of the windows that overlooked the garden, but neither one of the old men cared.  It wasn't as if they hadn't been caught in the act numerous times before in their glory days.</p><p>        They kissed one another tenderly, moaning softly as their naked bodies rubbed against each other’s with a sincere desire that hadn't been there in ages, hands caressing and groping every inch of skin they could latch onto.  Elganon couldn't get over how much he loved how soft Astarion had become.  The elf's body was once firm and muscular, but now he was like plush and it was wonderful.  He especially liked the sensation of his lover's protruding belly pressing into his as Astarion rocked his hips, thrusting into him carefully.  For the first time in years, Astarion had no trouble keeping his erection, and neither did Elganon.</p><p>        "I love you, Astarion.  And I always will."</p><p>        Astarion began to cry again, out of joy.  He lowered his face into his partner's slender neck, kissing it as he whispered, “I love you, too."</p><p>        Elganon probably couldn’t hear what he said, but that was alright.  All of this was alright.  Maybe getting old wasn’t so bad, after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"You'll be older, too.  And if you say the word, I could stay with you."</p><p>Recommended Listening: When I'm 64 by The Beatles</p></blockquote></div></div>
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